


Motherhood

by Ovipositivity



Series: Folk [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Human/Monster Romance, Human/Monster Society, Lesbian Sex, Modern Era, Oviposition, Pregnancy, drider, ovipositor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ovipositivity/pseuds/Ovipositivity
Summary: You and your drider girlfriend have been planning to conceive for a while... and finally, her eggs are ready.





	1. Chapter 1

The call comes in around 3:30 PM, and that’s about it for your productivity for the day. It’s Ki’kreen and the breathless excitement in her voice tells you everything you need to know. As always, it’s a little difficult to understand her through the phone, but you don’t have any trouble with the two most important words: “It’s positive.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in a daze. Your thoughts are chasing one another around in circles. Is she ready? Are  _ you  _ ready? You thought you were, but it’s  _ real _ now, real in a way that it wasn’t before. You knew that this day was coming, and soon. Ki’kreen’s doctor did say she was responding very well to the treatments, and he expected success any day now. That was two weeks ago. So, if anything, this good news is belated. But it still feels rushed.

Your boss notices your distraction and takes pity on you. “Go home, Y/N,” he growls around four o’clock “Come back tomorrow with your head on straight.” His fangs make it hard for him to pronounce your name, but for once you barely notice. You don’t think you’ll be in tomorrow, and when you tell him why, he breaks into a broad grin. “That’s great news!” he says. “So what the hell are you still doing here?”

You don’t have a good answer to that. You fold up your laptop, slip it in your case, and run for the elevators.

The whole trip home is slow torture. First you need to put money on your subway pass, then the train pulls away from the platform just as you stagger up, one arm sticking out in a futile attempt to hold it up. The next train is packed, so full you can’t get a seat, but you finally manage on the one after that. You’re squished like a sardine but, for once, it doesn’t bother you. You leap off the train at your stop to find the escalator to the surface out of order. No worries– you vault the stairs two or three at a time, bursting into the sunlight and nearly collapsing from exertion.

You’re on a mission, though, and you aren’t about to let your body stop you. Your building is three blocks away and you run the whole way, though it’s more of a high-speed shamble by the time you arrive. Your card buzzes you in and you glide across the lobby. Your apartment is on the first floor– it’s on the special ones, with the extra-wide doors and the extra-high ceilings. You’re grateful for that. You’re not sure you could manage stairs right now.

Ki’kreen is waiting for you just inside. She looks as though she’s been pacing, and nobody paces like a drider. Her eight chitinous legs sprawl beneath her, and she shifts nervously from foot to foot to foot. At the sight of you she throws up her arms. “Y/N!” she says, in that peculiar buzzing voice you love so much. “You’re early!” Her mouthparts twirl oddly to make the human noises, but you’re used to it. All eight eyes are fixed on you and you can tell that she’s been crying. You’re not about to call her out on it. You feel like crying yourself.

You drop your bag and run towards her. By the time you reach her you find you have the energy for one last leap into her arms. They wrap around you and then you can feel her breath on your cheek and then you’re raining kisses on that face, every inch of it, from the bony mandibles to the smooth, ash-grey skin to her almond-shaped eyes. They look so human, those eyes, except for the red irises and the black sclera– and, of course, the fact that there are eight of them, arranged in two columns on either side of her pretty little upturned nose. You kiss that too and she clicks happily, her equivalent of a surprised giggle.

“I came as soon as I could get away, love,” you say. “Traffic was murder.”

“I hope your boss isn’t mad at you,” Ki’kreen says. She’s such a worrier. “Nah,” you reply, flipping one hand dismissively. “He gets it. He knows what’s going on.”

“You told him?” She gasps in surprise and covers her mouthparts with one hand. It’s such a prissy gesture you can’t help but laugh.

“Of course I told him!” you say. “I’m gonna miss like three weeks of work! I can’t exactly lie!”

“Well… ok,” she says. She sets you down gently on the floor and scuttles over to the kitchen nook. “I read you shouldn’t do this on an empty stomach, so I made you some noodles.” You’re touched. Ki’kreen’s an indifferent cook, all things considered, but she’s making an effort. You notice now that she’s wearing an apron over her clothes– one of yours, and it barely fits her. When one partner is eight feet tall and weighs four hundred pounds, it’s a little hard to share clothes. But it looks cute on her and you say so.

“Flatterer,” she says, and bats her many eyelashes coquettishly. “You’re just trying to get me into bed.”

“I think we’re a little past that, Ki,” you say, and she blushes. You think. It’s so hard to tell, with driders.

The noodles are… well, they’re noodles. They’re filling, at least. You make appreciative noises while you eat, then when you’re done you drop the dishes in the sink. “Are you ready?” you ask. She nods and folds her hands nervously together.

“Are you?” she replies. “I mean, it’s not easy. It might… it might hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say. You’re not so sure about that yourself, but the last thing you want to do is scare her. You run one finger through the long, finger-thick tendrils that serve her as hair. They twitch and writhe like snakes beneath your touch. “I’ve watched YouTube videos. It’s easy. I just lay there, right?”

“Well… I guess…” Ki’kreen’s mouthparts clack together, a gesture of nervous speechlessness that you’re very familiar with. “Come on,” you say. “Let me see them first.”

She hesitates, then half-turns away from you and lifts up her abdomen. At first you’re not sure what you’re looking for, and then you see them– a raised cluster of what look like blisters. The skin is stretched so taut over them that it’s partially translucent, and you can see the individual eggs, like blobs of amber. Each of those, you think, is a drider. Or will be. If you can do this.

You can, you tell yourself. You can.

You lead Ki’kreen by the hand to the bedroom. You grew up sleeping on a feather mattress, and adjusting to a silk hammock was a bit of a stretch, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything now. It’s the perfect shape for the two of you to snuggle, and most nights you curl up in her arms. You wonder how it’ll work for the next few weeks. You’ll figure something out. Definitely.

You unbutton your work blouse and shimmy out of your pencil skirt. Your pantyhose come next, then your bra and finally your panties, sliding to the floor with a whisper of silk. You neatly fold your clothes and leave them on the end table. Then, shivering slightly– it’s hot out, and the AC’s been running all day– you step into the hammock and lie back.

Ki’kreen glides smoothly across the room and looms over you. You always feel so vulnerable in this position. It’s not just the size differential– you feel like a fly in a web. You’ve done that role-play, although Ki’kreen’s a little too soft-hearted to make a convincing predator. Her hair-tendrils spasm and her mandibles twitch as she pulls her shirt off over her head. She unhooks her bra (a custom job– most stores don’t carry a 54KK) and her breasts spill out, each the size of a ripe watermelon. They’re the same uniform grey as the rest of her, with areolas as black as night. She doesn’t have to be naked for this part, you know that, but you appreciate the gesture. It’s intimate. You’re not just making a baby (or two, or three, or four…) You’re making love.

She peels off the broad strip of fabric that serves her as a skirt. She doesn’t have anything to cover, but the interface between the smooth flesh of her torso and the furry spider body is a little unsettling to look at. Most driders are a bit self-conscious about it, and Ki’kreen is no exception. Instead of staring at the line where woman and spider meet and blend, you look up at her face and reach up with one hand to cup her cheek. She’s afraid, you realize, more afraid than you.


	2. Chapter 2

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and there’s a long pause before Ki’kreen answers.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ki… I want this. We want this. Don’t we?” She nods. “Well, there you go, then. We’ve been trying so long.”

“But it’s just… it’s so…” she’s clearly grappling for words. Her fears are amorphous, shapeless things, whispers that even she can’t quite name. So you come to her rescue.

“Ki, if you don’t get that mouth over here, I’m gonna call the whole thing off.”

For a moment she looks utterly dumbstruck, then she nods and bends down between your legs.

Growing up your father had made model train sets, and one day when you were fourteen he had spent an afternoon trying to fix a broken locomotive. Some gear had slipped inside, and instead of whirring quietly along his miniature track, it simply sat there and buzzed like a hornet. After several hours of work had proved fruitless, he’d thrown it out, but that evening you had surreptitiously retrieved it from the trashcan. You were curious at that age and something about the humming vibration of the locomotive had drawn you like a magnet. You’d brought it back to your room and spent an evening in cautious experimentation. That locomotive had gotten you through some tough times at school, and while you’d moved away to college and found a galaxy of vibrators and other toys, you’d never quite managed to replace it.

Until you met Ki’kreen. She has this thing she can do with her mandibles, a rapid whirr that sounds like that old locomotive’s failing engine, and the vibration is like nothing you’d ever felt before. The first night you’d brought her home she’d kept you up for hours, teasing you, keeping you on the brink of release while never quite granting it. She’s not holding back now. Her mouthparts buzz against the lips of your sex while her long, thin tongue snakes out to tease and prod your clit. All the strength runs out of your limbs and you’re reduced to cooing and sighing. She works you patiently and gently, speeding up and slowing down to match the crests and valleys of your pleasure. You cry out as you come for the first time and clamp your thighs around her head. By the time your breath returns to normal you feel nice and limber and ready for what’s coming next.

“That’s enough foreplay, Ki,” you call down. Her tongue slithers out of you and you feel a pang of regret that you didn’t let her go longer. But daylight’s burning and you have a job to do.

“I love you, Y/N,” she says. She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. You hope not. An eight-eyed woman can cry a lot.

“I love you too. Ki?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Stick it in me, will you?”

She chitters with laughter and rears up. The flesh of her abdomen parts like the petals of a flower peeling back, and you see her ovipositor emerge. It’s thicker than you thought it would be, at least as big around as your wrist, and that’s just the tip. The base is thicker still. It extends like the secondary mouth from Alien, a movie the two of you watched just a few months ago (she hated it, and screamed during the scene where the baby alien popped out of John Hurt. “My babies won’t do that!” she declared). Ribbons of lubricant drip off it. You spread your legs, take a deep breath, and reach out to hold it. It’s warm and sticky in your hand, and pulses with Ki’kreen’s heartbeat. You take a deep breath and guide it to your entrance. “Ready?” she asks, and you nod. You’re not sure if you are, but it’s too late now.

Ki’kreen leans down over you, and with a single thrust of her abdomen buries the ovipositor inside you. You cry out at the sudden sensation of fullness. You can feel it pressing on you, stretching, making room for itself. It’s intense, but it’s not really painful. Not yet. Ki’kreen groans overhead. She looks like she’s having a good time, at least. She shifts slightly and another inch or two slide into you. You were already wet, but now you’re soaking. The feeling is incredible. It’s like it’s pressing on all sides at once, rubbing against your velvety inner walls, brushing at your clit. It spasms, and a jet of warm fluid erupts inside you. The stuff tingles and you feel yourself relaxing. You remember that from the video, too. A natural muscle relaxant, something to give the drider access to your womb without hurting you.

Ki’kreen takes her time. She’s leaning in very close now, inches above you, and her breasts hang down in your face. You can’t help it– you jerk your head forward and suckle gently at her nipple. The fluid that flows out isn’t exactly milk, but it’s honey-sweet, and soon it’s dripping down your chin. You hear her gasp and her nipple stiffens in your mouth. Your tongue flicks gently at it, over and over, and each flick produces another breathy little sigh.

Meanwhile the ovipositor is still burrowing its way inside you. Every time it spurts you grow a little more numb and soon your whole midsection is just a mass of warm tingles. It doesn’t feel bad, though– more like pleasurable pins and needles. Waves of warmth radiate outwards from your sex, and when you look down, you can see a raised bump under your skin– the ovipositor, making its way to your womb. Ki’kreen pauses only brief when she reaches it. You’re so relaxed now that she can slide inside easily, but you still feel a little frisson of pleasure as the tip of her ovipositor enters your most intimate sanctum.

Ki’kreen is obviously having some trouble focusing. Beads of sweat stand out on her forehead. You don’t exactly blame her. You’ve been working hard, suckling from one breast and then the other, and teasing the free nipple with your fingertips. It’s so large and so responsive, and you luxuriate in the feeling of your fingers sinking into her soft, pliant flesh. She reaches down to tease your own nipples and you gasp at the sudden turning of the tables. The pleasure from those firm little nubs flows like a tributary into a mighty river, joining the waves of ecstasy pulsing outward from your clit. She nuzzles at your neck and you feel her mandibles rubbing against your collarbone, along with the wet ribbon of her tongue. That’s too much for you– you groan in release as you come, your tight passage spasming around her ovipositor. That seems to drive her over the edge and she sighs into your ear as she joins you. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and fill your brain with color as the orgasm seizes your body like a wave tossing a tiny boat. You hold Ki’kreen tightly, unwilling to let go lest you drown.

Eventually it recedes and you’re left panting. Ki’kreen, too, but she sets her face in an expression of determination. “The first egg is coming, my love!” she says.

You grit your teeth and brace yourself, but you’re not ready for it when it arrives. You can see it traveling down the tube, a bulge about the size of a tennis ball, but feeling it pass inside you is another thing altogether. No sooner has it slipped past your entrance than it’s pressing against your inner walls in just that spot, the little spot that Ki’kreen always finds with her fingers and tongue, the spot that always reduces you to a quivering lump of jelly. So soon after your last orgasm you’re hyper-sensitive and the feeling is like a bomb going off inside you. You bite your fist to keep your undignified moans inside, but it’s no use. The egg slides along, heedless of the pleasure it’s leaving in its wake, and plops into your uterus. It’s accompanied by a little jet of warm fluid that cushions its impact. You can feel it resting there and you lay one hand on your stomach.

Egg after egg slide into you. Ki’kreen is grunting and straining now, and you are too– you can feel yourself stretching as the things stuff themselves into your womb. Your stomach rises like fresh bread. Each egg is accompanied by a burst of goo, which keeps your belly smooth and round– though when you prod it you can feel the individual eggs inside. There’s seven in total, and by the time the last one pops free, you’ve come twice more. Your stomach is a massive, gravid orb now, and you rest your hands on it in wonder. Part of you can’t believe you’re looking at yourself. It looks like an alien body part grafted to you by some unscrupulous doctor. It feels like yours, though, it feels warm and full and right. Ki’kreen is panting and sweat is dripping off her chin. You’re lying in a puddle, too, sweat and lubricant and her inhuman juices. You’re exhausted and, with the numbness starting to wear off, you’re a little sore. But you’re alive and invigorated. “Look at them,” you breathe. “Look at our children.”

Ki’kreen’s ovipositor wilts and begins to withdraw into her body. You shiver all over as it pulls out; your inner walls are so sensitive, the feeling of the ovipositor dragging along them is almost enough to set you off again. It catches for a moment at your cleft and then pops free, followed by a rivulet of slime that pools underneath you. You can feel your stretched and stuffed pussy trying to return to its proper shape. Right now, you don’t care. You may be naked, wet, and full of eggs, but you’ve never been so contended in your life.

“I can see them,” Ki’kreen whispers. She rests her head between your breasts and belly and you caress her head-tendrils gently. They stir like torpid reptiles. 

“Ki’kreen?” you ask. She doesn’t seem to want to take her head away from your stomach, so her response is a little indistinct.

“Yes, my love?”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Ki. You’re going to be Mother. I get to be Mom.”


End file.
